The Blood is Still Blood” by Sahir Ludhianvi

The Blood is Still Blood” by Sahir Ludhianvi is recited when the Storyteller finishes his story, but the rhythm the Urdu creates could not be recreated in English, therefore the original is retained. Here is a translation from Toronto’s Baidar Bakh:

 

Oppression is still oppression;
It is wiped off when it exceeds its limit.
The blood is still blood;
When it is dropped, it stains.

Whether it stains the desert sand
Or the hands of the killer;
Whether it stains the head of justice,
Or the feet of chains;
Whether it stains the sword of injustice
Or the corpse of a martyr;
The blood is still blood;
When it is dropped, it stains.

They may lurk in hiding places,
But the blood will always lead to the
tyrants.
Conspiracies may do their best
To shroud the truth in darkness,
But every drop of blood
Will carry a lamp on its palm.

Go and tell the obsolete and vain
fate of oppression,
Go and tell the intentions
of tyranny’s cunning wisdom,
That the blood is mad,
Can pounce on your lap;
That the flame is fierce,
Can scorch your harvest.

The blood you wanted to bury
In the shambles,
Has come out in the streets:
As a flame somewhere,
As a shout, a stone somewhere else.
When the blood marches,
It can’t be stopped by bayonets.
When it raises its head,
It can’t be cowed by repressive laws.

Oppression is a non-entity,
Worth nothing.
Oppression is only oppression
From the beginning to the end.
The blood is still blood;
It can assume many forms:
Images that can’t be erased,
Flames that can’t be put out,
Shouts that can’t be suppressed